Transferred Power
by don't eat paint
Summary: Just before Voldemort murders her, Lily Potter transfers all of her powers into Harry. Fifteen years later, he finds a new friend and a powerful artifact from his mother's childhood that will help him weild it. HG and maybe RH. Focuses on Lily's life.
1. A Mother's Gift

I most definitely do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that J.K. Rowling has created.

**Transferred Power **

**Chapter One: A mother's gift **

_Lily was breathing in sharp gasps. Just seconds ago she had heard James shouting at Voldemort, but everything was now silent. Although she did not want to accept it, she knew in her heart that he had perished. She let out a whimper that she desperately tried to stifle. Her heart was heavy with grief. _

_She then set her gaze on her baby boy. For a moment, time stopped. She knew she needed to stay strong. She needed to buy time; she needed to think of something she could do to save little Harry. He looked so much like his father. But now, she knew, he would never meet him. _

_Harry would not remember how excited James had been when he was born. He was practically jumping up and down. This was all while Lily in the process of delivering him. Although she was in a lot of pain, she couldn't help smiling at the anticipation on his face. _

_When they brought him home, James would sit by his little boy's crib for hours, just talking to him about anything he would think of. He was convinced that his son would be the next marauder. Harry had no idea what he was saying, but he seemed perfectly content just smiling at James and gurgling happily. _

_Her husband had made so many plans for his little boy. He was going to become Minister of Magic, be the most popular guy at Hogwarts, get all of his O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, and own a professional quidditch team. Everyone would know his name. She refused to let his dreams slip away. _

_Lily was smiling as she came back to reality. Snapping back into it, she frantically searched her options. She didn't care what happened to herself as long as her baby would live a long, wonderful life. "Everybody always thought that you were so smart in Hogwarts! Why can't you think of something now?" she scolded herself silently. _

_Her eyes suddenly lit up with realization. She knew what she had to do. She had been talking with James a few days before about a new development in magic called power transferal. Maybe, just maybe, he could live if she gave him every drop of her power. _

_Lily turned towards her son and whipped her wand out. She was pointing it towards him when she heard him. She heard the man who had killed the only person who had ever loved her. Her usually pleasant green eyes glowed with fury. _

_Her breath shook as she heard solid footsteps coming down the hall. She wouldn't have enough time to finish the ritual. The knob slowly turned. She hid her wand behind her back as a figure entered the room. _

_"Well hello, Mrs. Potter," said a quiet, snakelike voice from beneath a black hood. "Though I suppose you aren't really Mrs. Potter anymore, are you?" remarked his cold voice, thick with amusement. _

_"Ah! And who is this?" he whispered, turning to Harry. "A little orphan boy soon, I suppose. But he won't have to worry about that once he's dead, now will he?" Voldemort cackled mockingly. _

_To buy some time, Lily begged for her son's life to be spared, for she already know that he would not feel any remorse killing them both. This horrible being was beyond pity, even for helpless babies. _

_"Now it is time for you to die, Lily Potter," he said as he raised him wand." _

_The whole time, Lily had been holding her wand behind her back, hoping it was pointing at Harry. When she was done channeling all of her power into her wand, she slid it through the bars of his crib and felt him grab onto it. _

_Just as Voldemort yelled, "Avada Kedavra," Lily muttered, "Transferrus!" _

_Two beams of green light shot out of two separate wands. One climbed right up Harry's right arm, making it glow green for only a moment. The baby cried at the uncomfortable tingling feeling it left, and at how the light stung his eyes — the green light he would always recall in his dreams. Little Harry Potter was left gripping his mother's wand as she crumpled to the ground. _

_"Now it's your turn, my little nemesis," Voldemort cruelly cooed. It is hard to believe that you were ever going to be as powerful as me," he laughed, pointing his wand at the Harry Potter. _

_The rest is a mystery to even the most learned wizards. _

Petunia Dursley had walked down Privet Drive many times. She had always been proud to live in such a remarkable place. The sun was shining through the trees that lined the road, and she enjoyed the feel of it on her face. She breathed in the fresh air and smelled the gentle scent of freshly cut grass. There was not an unsightly lawn gnome anywhere, and pink flamingos were strictly prohibited.

Yes, she most definitely loved this place. She smiled slightly has she passed the very similar houses along the way. Of course they all had their faults, but she couldn't expect every family to be as perfect as hers now could she?

When she came to her own home, however, she found something, or rather someone, which was most definitely out of place. A lanky boy was carefully inspected the flower garden before standing up stretching out.

This boy was definitely a sight to see. His clothes hung off of him like he was shedding an extra skin, it looked as if he had never touched a brush in his life, he had smudges of dirt all over his face, and his toes were sticking out of the end of his shoes.

Petunia blanched and hurried to escort the boy to the back of the house.

"How many times have I told you to keep out of sight, boy?"

"You also told me to weed the weed-free garden. Which is it?"

"Don't you dare take that tone with me. I told you to do that early this morning when no neighbors would look outside. I think Mrs. Harriset saw you through her blinds."

Petunia looked around, once more to make sure that no one was watching them.

"It wouldn't hurt to put a comb through your hair, either."

With that, Petunia strode into the house.

Breathing deeply, Harry tried to keep control of himself. This had not been a good summer for him. Not that he had ever had a good summer. His grief was just too strong. Harry was just now starting to realize that Sirius was gone forever. It didn't seem fair that after 15 years of being an orphan, he lost the one person that could have been a makeshift dad.

He pulled a shred of paper from his pocket. Loopy handwriting was sketched across it telling him what to do for the day.

Weed the flower bed

do the dishes

make supper

make the beds

comb your hair

Kind of funny, really. "Comb your hair" was on his list every single day, but it was something that not even magic could fix. He ran a dirty hand through his dark locks. This had become a habit, it seemed. Whenever he was nervous, frustrated, embarrassed, or for no reason at all, his hand shot strait up to his hair. He hadn't even noticed at first, but it was something James used to do.

He still didn't completely believe Sirius and Remus when it came to the memory of his dad. Why had so many people told him that James was a great person if he was such a jerk? Out of pity, he supposed.

All of the sudden he was in a very foul mood. He was reminded of how much he hated this place. It wouldn't hurt to have something unusual, would it? He hated everything about it. He hated how the sun beat down on him, and how his horrible relatives treated him like a servant. Crumbling the list up, he threw it over the fence.

He knew that he would regret that later, but at the moment he would give Grawp a bath than spend time tending to the Dursleys. Before he knew it, he found himself on the sidewalk walking to no specific place.

Harry didn't know how much more he could take. With the prophesy in mind, he now knew that it was his fault that his parents died. Cocky or not, he would give anything to have them back. He had already killed some of his closest family and friends. He even managed to do this to his parents before he could talk. It almost seemed like his family and friends would die one-by-one until he was all alone.

Shivering, he came out of his daze and looked around. He was on the end of a long street lined with shabby houses. Grass was overgrown, paint was peeling, and one house even had a few lawn gnomes. Each house had character to it; nothing was matching. Feeling strangely at home, he slowly strolled down the sidewalk. Harry glanced at the street sign which was labeled, "Whispering Lane".

No children were playing outside. In fact, there appeared to be no people there at all. It was such a welcome change from Privet Drive that Harry paused and took it all in.

He curiously watched as a vehicle turned into the lane moved towards him. It was the first sign of life he had seen. His curiosity was crushed, however, when he realized that the man in the car was no stranger. It was his Uncle Vernon who looked absolutely murderous.

After he was thrown into the car (quite literally), and it jolted into motion, Harry knew he wanted nothing more than to return to the hidden beauty that was Whispering Lane.


	2. Visions From Whispering Lane

I still do not own Harry Potter. Too bad.

A/N...I did some editingfrom chapter one, I made some really dumb mistakes.

And here we go with chapter two...

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Chapter 2: Visions from Whispering Lane **

Harry really didn't care whether or not the Dursleys locked him in his room anymore. He seriously preferred it that way. There were few downsides to not having to see his relatives' ugly faces.

Calmly reading his Potions text, he tried to ignore the stabbing hunger pains that now plagued him. The hunger was definitely a downside.

After a few minutes of this, he gave in. He was a growing boy, after all. Hopping off of his bed, he made his way to the ever handy loose floorboard under his bed. Harry lifted up the board and eased his hand in. He knew that there was some leftover cake in there somewhere. Not feeling anything, he shoved his whole arm in. Nothing was going to come between him and his food.

Aha! He had found something! He frowned, however, when what he clasped did not feel like one of Mrs. Weasley's delicious deserts after all. He had to slide his arm in up to his shoulder in order to get a good grip.

Carefully, he pulled the object out to inspect it. It appeared to be a small girl's jewelry box about the size of his hand. The beautiful box was stained dark brown with simple gold letters on the cover that spelled, "Lily R. Evans."

Harry gasped; it had belonged to his mother. With shaking hands, he delicately lifted the top up. Inside, he found his mother's prized possessions from childhood. He removed several pressed flowers from the top, exposing a thick envelope.

He managed to absolutely murder it while fumbling to get it open, but he was too preoccupied with what was inside to care. He turned the envelope upside-down and a few folded pieces of loose-leaf and a gorgeous necklace fell into his hand.

First, he unfolded the paper—hoping for some sort of an explanation. In a childish, awkward script it read:

To whoever finds this letter,

You have come across one-half of my most brilliant project. Please be warned: it is very powerful. You see, I am a witch. You may not believe it, but it's true. I'm not really supposed to tell anyone, but if you managed to find this, it must have been fate.

When I was accepted to Hogwarts at eleven years old, my sister Petunia changed. It was as if she felt left out, although she would never admit it. We had never been best friends, but this was the first time she glared at me every time I did something as little as ask her to pass the peas at dinner.

I spent a whole month wondering how I was going to patch things up, until I finally thought of it. To make a long story short, I read through dozens of advanced spell books and put a lot of hard work into them.

I transfigured some rocks into two identical necklaces. This wasn't too hard, since it was working with inanimate objects. I used countless charms on them. I didn't mind, though, since that's my favorite class at school. By the last week of school, I was done with the necklaces; they were perfect.

They were made so that each of us would know if the other one needed help. As long as the two people wearing them have a special bond, your jewel with glow green and jingle softly if the other is in trouble. You can even tell what kind of mood they are in, kind of like those muggle mood rings.

During the summer, everything was fine. It wasn't until I came home from school the next year that I noticed Petunia wasn't wearing it anymore. When I approached her about it, she said she had a new boyfriend now, Tom, who thought it was ugly. She snootily added that she agreed with him.

So that is where I am now, packing it away forever. Maybe you can find a better use for it—if you can find the other half. I hope Petunia choked on it.

Best Wishes,

Lily Evans

Harry took a deep breath and set the letter down. No one had ever told him much about his mother before. He lifted the necklace by the chain and held the pendent part in front of his eyes so that he could study it.

It just looked like clear crystal at first glance. Each of its sides were smooth and flat, and it came to a point at the top and bottom. After a few minutes, he held it up to the light streaming in through his window, where it showed its true beauty. Every color imaginable shone brightly in the crystal, and as the light went through it, he could hear a delicate jingling sound.

Harry had no doubt that it was full of powerful magic. Even though it was supposedly made by his mother, he was slightly reminded of his second year and the diary. He realized that he didn't know much about what it did yet.

He decidedly slid it back into the envelope along with the letter, put everything back into the box, and returned it to the loose floorboard.

He had some snooping to do in Petunia's room. Perhaps he could find her half.

Harry had now come along another annoying disadvantage of being locked in. He wished he wasn't an underage wizard. What was the point of learning how to use magic when he never got the chance to use it when in a bind?

Harry flopped backwards onto his bed while trying to think of an escape route.

Immediately when he closed his eyes, he saw an image. It was very blurry, but he recognized it as the Whispering Lane street sign.

His eyes snapped open. That had never happened before. Not during the day. Out of curiosity, he closed them once more. Just like last time, it was as if he were watching through someone else's eyes as they sprinted down the lane. They turned into one of the driveways and entered a brown house with yellow shutters; the person was panting heavily.

Inside, a young-looking man was sitting comfortably on a dusty green couch, reading a muggle newspaper. His face was kind, and he found that it was oddly familiar. The man slowly turned his head to face Harry, "Hello, Harry. I've got answers for you." he said slowly.

Just as abruptly as the vision began, it ended, leaving Harry with even more unanswered questions. He wanted nothing more dearly than to go to this man. No one ever answered his questions. No one ever told him anything.

Harry's eyes flicked to Dudley's old baseball bat that was sticking out of his closet, then to the window. Was he desperate enough? Maybe. He had to get out.

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